In my 19 years of life I never really experienced anything worth telling a story about. Usually when something exciting happened to me, which was rare, I'd sum up the key parts and move on. But then I died, and I finally had a story worth talking about. Anyway, how I died isn't too exciting. Just a basic car accident. You know, icy roads, snow coming down hard, a car slides into your lane and then boom. You're standing in the street watching some guy trying to shake you alive and all you can think is, "Damn, I'm dead." Although, I'm sure you've never experienced that, or else I'd be telling you this story face to face. Anyway, that guy begging me to wake up, he's pretty important, remember him. Now, let's get to the good stuff shall we? Because in all honesty, this story isn't about me, or my death, it's about Abigail and Zac. Abigail is my younger sister. Three years difference but I swear we were meant to be twins. We talked the same, had the same thoughts, finished each other's sentences, and looked so much alike it was scary. Both of us with long, dark brown hair, big, glowing brown eyes, a button nose and a smile that seemed all too contagious. Abigail and I could always be found together, if you found me, you found her. I guess you can tell that we were pretty close. My funeral was the first day anyone had ever seen Abigail truly alone.
When I was alive, I never thought about who would be at my funeral. In fact, I didn't even think about my wedding day or if I'd have kids. I guess I was always an 'in the moment' type of person. I didn't think about if the next person I met would become a lifelong friend who would make a tear-jerking speech at my funeral, I just lived day to day. As I watched people come to mourn my death though, I realized that more people cared about me then I thought. This was odd to me because along with my 'in the moment' attitude, I had a very 'either you're with me or you're not' outlook on relationships. I must have been a pretty nice person though because I seemed to have a lot of friends that were with me, all gathered around to watch me be buried six feet under. Except for one person, he stood off to the side, towards the back of the group. He didn't look like anyone I had really talked to, so I got closer and I realized it was Zac. I stood in front of him, just staring at this person who, to me, didn't have a reason to be here. His piercing blue-green eyes spilled silent tears, he looked so lost. He ran his hand through his brown hair and his defined jaw-line tightened as he pressed his teeth together hard. I knew he couldn't hear me or see me, but I asked anyway, "Zac, what are you doing here?" I just couldn't understand why Zac would make an appearance at my funeral. We had never really spoken much, he was a grade below me and we had one class together in high school, but our conversations mostly consisted of small talk.
People were starting to leave, but Zac was still, staring straight through me. He quickly wiped away his tears and began to take a few hesitant steps forward. I turned to see where he was headed to, and then I saw Abigail, she was the only one still standing there, staring at the hole in the ground that now played home to my empty body. Zac made his way to her, wiping away tears that might have managed to escape. "Abigail I... I'm..." She wrapped her arms around him and they just stood there, embraced in arms of mourning.
*
Abigail hadn't been in school for two weeks. The last person she had seen besides family was Zac at the funeral. She hadn't spoken to anyone from school either, she didn't want the hint of sympathetic undertones shooting into her ear, sending pangs of frustrated sorrow through her body. Most of her time was spent in her bedroom where she laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She preferred to be alone, but she knew that come Monday she'd have to hit play on life and go back to pressing through the motions of high school. Since it was Saturday, and most of our relatives had left, Abigail knew she'd have to find some way to pull herself together before returning to school.
After she was sure our parents had fallen asleep, Abigail quietly walked out of her room. She made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror taking a long look at her reflection. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a sigh. She turned on the faucet and wiggled her fingers slowly through the stream of water that poured from it. The water began to increase in temperature and it surrendered a streaming steam that fluttered up from the bowels of the sink. Abigail cupped her hands under the stream of hot water and splashed it onto her face. She rubbed her eyes and reached for the hand towel by the mirror before turning off the faucet. Gently, she dried off her face and hands and then returned the hand towel to its place. As she turned to leave the bathroom, a dancing flicker of reflected light caught her attention. She froze as she noticed a familiar sight, the necklace that always hung from my neck, displaying my initials.
YOU ARE READING
Gravity
Teen Fiction"In my 19 years of life I never really experienced anything worth telling a story about. Usually when something exciting happened to me, which was rare, I'd sum up the key parts and move on. But then I died, and I finally had a story worth talking...
